Chapter 4
He’d fallen asleep. On the floor of his lab.
Stryke had never just…fallen asleep.
Groggily, he sat up, unable to remember anyth—
Suddenly, stabbing pains pierced every organ, and his cock felt so hard he thought it might crack right down the middle.
Gasping in agony, he rolled onto his hands and knees. Shit. It felt like he was dying. He could practically hear Eidolon saying, “ I told you so .”
Panting, he reached up and fumbled on the counter for his injector pen. There. Yes .
He jabbed himself in the thigh, and as the pain melted away, he collapsed onto the floor again to catch his breath.
His comms vibrated, and he groaned. He was probably super late to a meeting.
Yep, it was Kalis, wondering where he was because she had a million messages, and someone was waiting to see him. Instead, he was lying on his back on the cold concrete floor, recovering from a marathon of calculations, research, and painful sex pangs he’d chased away with a drug that was killing him.
Coffee. He needed coffee. And a shower.
And sex.
He snarled at that last thought. But it was true. The intervals between injections were growing shorter and shorter, and he needed to reset his body with the real thing.
Soon, you won’t need the injections at all because you’ll be dead .
The thought didn’t upset him as much as it probably should.
Cursing, he forced himself to trudge up the stairs to the kitchen, where the automatic coffee pot had brewed his favorite blend. He poured a cup, grabbed Masumi’s vase, and headed to the shower.
The shower and sex were both cold and fast, and he felt better afterward, but still dirty.
He wished he wasn’t aware of how messed up that was. He also wished there was some sort of cure, some kind of magical mathematical equation that would help unlink his trauma from his sex drive.
There was one thing he could try. His brother Rade could take a little walk inside his head and snip things while healing others. His uncle Wraith could do that too. But if there was one thing Stryke hated more than fucking someone, it was someone fucking with his brain.
He got to the office an hour late, and Kalis was waiting for him, her expression a mask of annoyance. The tiny, black horns, usually hidden in her auburn hair, popped out a couple of inches.
“There you are.” She gestured to his desk, where a steaming cup of coffee waited for him. “As usual, the messages on your pad are arranged in both order of urgency and by timestamp. And Ms. Cyanide is waiting to see you.”
He looked up sharply. “Cyanide? From DART?”
“Yes. Kynan sent her per your agreement.”
Interesting. DART’s senior technomancer was known throughout the cybersecurity community. A rare Cyberis demon, she was one of the most powerful Mancers in the world and, unlike so many of her kind, didn’t use her abilities for evil.
That Stryke knew of, anyway.
Technically, Cyberis demons were banned from the human realm because of the potential of them abusing their powers. Their ability to hack, operate, and reprogram electronic devices with their minds meant they could shut down vehicles in motion. They could drop planes from the sky. Military experts feared they could even control nuclear weapons. They were also capable of getting past DNA scanners undetected by simply deleting their DNA from the software as they walked by, making them even more dangerous.
Stryke employed a Cyberis technomancer himself, but he had also taken precautions against their particular magic. He trusted his people, but he wasn’t an idiot. Most demons were scum.
He wondered how Kynan was getting away with Cyanide’s employment. Especially now, when the world was calling for more regulations, scrutiny, and oversight into companies and governments that employed underworlders.
He reached for the StryTech-branded coffee mug. “Send her in.”
Kalis bowed shallowly and dematerialized.
A few moments later, the office elevator doors opened. A drop-dead gorgeous, silvery-white-haired female stepped out, her long, slender legs encased in dark, wide-leg pants that swung around a pair of black heels. The neckline of her gunmetal top dipped low enough to reveal a hint of cleavage and a chunky silver necklace with a deep amethyst pendant a shade or two lighter than her eyes.
She was stunning. Her race was known for its elfin good looks and gemstone eyes, but damn. She was something special.
He waited to acknowledge her until she’d crossed his office floor, her shoes making the tiles beneath them glow red with every step.
Red for demons, white for angels, blue for vampires, yellow for humans.
“Hello, Cyanide.”
Her already cold eyes chilled even more. She wasn’t happy to be here, was she?
“It’s Cyan.” One eyebrow arched as she glanced at the floor. “I see one of my brethren designed a species-detection floor system. Clever.” Lifting her head, she swept her short, messy hair out of her face. “But too limited in scope. It only identifies demons, angels, humans, and vampires. You need it to identify half-breeds, shifters, and weres too.”
She was right, but the technomancer who’d designed the system couldn’t get what Cyan suggested to work. “If you think you can do better, be my guest.”
“I’m not here to fix your employee’s incompetence.”
Incompetence?
She wandered around as if she owned the place, checking out the view, the lab equipment, the computers. Looking everywhere but at him. Finally, she stopped in front of one of his whiteboards.
“Oh, my gods.” She moved closer to the board. “Are these really calculations for an invisible umbrella?”
Surprise filtered through him. Most people wouldn’t have understood his chicken scratch. “They are.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Do you plan to enchant an object that will project the shield? Or will you use an electronic chip and technomancy to operate it?”
“That’ll be for R&D to figure out.”
“Of course.” She took a step back from the board and cast a final, cursory glance around the office as if committing it to memory. “Now, if you’ll just point me to the lab where I’ll be working, I’ll get caught up with your team.”
“First,” he said, “I want you to tell me why you’re here.”
She pivoted sharply on her heels. “Excuse me?”
“You’re putting out vibes that could freeze a frost demon. So, why are you here?”
Her chin came up, and her haughty gaze slid right down her perky nose at him. He might as well have been a cockroach in her kitchen.
“I’m here because Kynan asked me to be.”
“So, you’re prepared to work closely with me?” Hopefully, minus the attitude.
Her mouth fell open, but she caught herself quickly, snapping her jaw shut so tight she had to speak between clamped teeth.
“I’ll be working with you?” If he’d thought she’d seemed unhappy before, she looked ready to spit hellfire-tempered nails now. “I assumed I’d mostly be working with a team.”
He smiled, enjoying her discomfort. So few things amused him anymore. “I’m very hands-on.” Let her take that however she wanted. She knew he was a sex demon, after all.
“Thank you for the warning,” she said, her voice as biting as an arctic chill. “Now, I’d like to get started, if you don’t mind.”
“Eager, huh? I like that.” Standing, he gestured to the elevator. “I’ll show you to the lab where you’ll be working.” He came around the desk and didn’t wait for her to catch up before starting across the considerable expanse of floor. He loved his giant office. It made people feel small. Put them off balance. “You should feel lucky. I never personally give tours of my facility.”
“Oh, so people get to enjoy the tours usually.”
Damn, she was salty. No longer amused, he swung around to her.
“Why don’t you come clean?” he said. “Why are you here, and what’s your issue with me? Spit it out. I don’t have time for bullshit.”
She strode past him like she owned the building. He’d never met a Cyberis demon who didn’t have arrogance flowing through their veins. Clearly, she was no exception.
“I’m here to ensure this project’s success. But you’re right, I’m not thrilled.” She turned back to him at the elevator. “Your products have caused a lot of pain and suffering.”
“Ah.”
The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped inside, standing in the middle of the lift while she waited for him.
“ Ah ?” She glared at him as he entered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The doors closed with a near-silent whoosh . “It means that if you don’t like me now, things aren’t going to get much better.” He reached for the control panel to engage the symbol that would take them to the lab level, but before he could touch it, the symbol lit up, and the lift dropped smoothly down the shaft.
Cyan stared dead ahead, all smug and shit, as if using one’s mind to operate an elevator instead of your hand was impressive or something.
You’re just jealous .
Yeah, probably. But jealous or not, he had a feeling this collaboration would be as disastrous as the personnel exchange DART had done with The Aegis. Kynan would owe him.
Big time.
Cyan had known she wouldn’t like Stryke.
But she’d been unprepared for exactly how much she didn’t like him. The whole thing about never meeting your heroes was one hundred percent true.
He was arrogant, rude, dismissive, and…the most beautiful male she’d ever seen. The bastard.
He wore his clothes, professional and tailored for his athletic build, with casual grace. The top buttons on his burgundy shirt were undone, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his dermoire , the dark symbols flexing over ropy muscles. Shrewd black eyes and short, ruffled black hair complemented his tan skin and rugged face.
He might be wearing expensive clothes and look like he’d been born in an office building, but she could picture him in the fighting gear his brother, Blade, wore too.
Dammit, she had to stop picturing him at all. He might be gorgeous, powerful, and brilliant, but so was Satan.
So, yeah, Stryke was awful, but she fell in love with his facility. She’d always wanted to see it, and it did not disappoint.
The sprawling campus stretched beyond the luxurious high-rise offices to several ultra-modern outbuildings. Stryke didn’t take her to all of them, merely pointed out where they were, what they did, and why she wasn’t allowed in any of them. Mostly, it boiled down to need-to-know, and as it turned out, Cyan didn’t need to know jack shit.
But Stryke sure knew how to take care of his employees. Throughout the facility, there were cafés, break rooms with showers and cots for naps, and even a daycare for demonlings, and a separate, smaller child care center and school for human children. The hundred-thousand-square-foot Commons Mall boasted several eateries, shops, and even a beauty salon and grocery store.
Apparently, very few humans worked at StryTech, and those who did, lived in specially built, highly secure campus apartments with walking trails and one of two gyms on the StryTech grounds. Sydney was relatively safe for a demon city on a demon continent, but few humans wanted to live outside StryTech walls in a city populated almost entirely by underworlders.
“This is kind of amazing,” she murmured as they passed a crystal fountain depicting a battle between an angel and a demon, the story playing out in moving animations on the surface of the water. Across the stone walkway, a sparkly, rainbow-colored food truck called A Slice of Heaven served generous helpings of various cakes. Next to that, a black-and-red truck called The Devil’s Food offered spicy, traditional demon dishes made with Sheoul-grown ingredients.
“It didn’t look like this when I bought it.” He gestured at Hawking Tower. “I acquired headquarters first, and then I spent four years building the rest.”
“I remember,” she mused. “You bought the first building when you were twenty-two. You said you got it dirt cheap because, at the time, Australia was practically worthless after being ceded to Sheoul. You named it after Stephen Hawking and then named every new building after famous scientists.”
He gave her a surprised look. “How do you know that?”
Heat bloomed in her cheeks, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if she’d stalked him or anything.
“That article a few years back in Forbes magazine. You gave them a tour of the new, expanded campus.”
“Ah, that.” He ushered her inside the Curie Research Center, one of four laboratory facilities on-site. “I had to show the world that what I built wasn’t a human meat processing plant or something. Didn’t stop the tabloids and conspiracy nuts from saying it, though.”
She barely heard him, too focused on the magnificence of the hyper-secure biology and chemical labs. The security was insane, with layers of safeguards like machines that could detect weapons and evil DNA, and Senchi demons who could sense emotions and thoughts.
Thankfully, she’d stopped imagining throat-punching Stryke a while ago. Still, the Senchi demons watched her with suspicion as Stryke took her through a misty portal in the high-tech center designed to kill all harmful bacteria. When they stepped out, she came to a shocked, dead stop, her mouth gaping in awe.
For so many reasons.
The first? The person who greeted them…wasn’t a person. It was a robotic replica of Stryke, its movements and voice so lifelike she felt the urge to kick it in the dick.
“Welcome to StryTech’s engineering facility,” it said. “Behind the glass wall, you must wear hazmat gear. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask someone else.”
With that, the AI bot turned around and strode off.
“Wow,” she said. “That thing really captured your sparkling personality.”
Amusement turned Stryke’s expression from serious to almost playful. Like a cat that wasn’t ready to catch the mouse yet.
“My people worked hard to capture just the right amount of dismissiveness.” He moved on to a laboratory on the far side of the space. “Let’s meet your team.”
She tried not to marvel at how good his ass looked in those black slacks as she followed him to a small area where two people, both humanoid and male, were programming a 3D printer, which was, of course, the most cutting-edge technology available.
The dark-skinned guy cast a glance over his shoulder at Stryke. “We should have a mockup of the new weapon’s basic design in a few minutes.”
“Excellent.” Stryke gestured to her, his dermoire rippling around his forearm. The scientist in her would love to study that thing. See how it worked. The female in her appreciated how it flexed smoothly over hard muscle and veins. Dammit, she shouldn’t be admiring anything about him. “This is Cyan. She’s here to make sure we don’t fuck up DART’s precious baby. Cyan, this is Dr. Dakarai. He’s the team’s engineer.” He cocked his head at the blond guy who didn’t look old enough to legally drink alcohol in many countries. “That’s Dracx. He’s a metallurgist on temporary loan from Project 6hell. He’s helping figure out what materials will work for what we need.”
Dr. Dakarai nodded politely. “Given your species,” he said to her, “I assume you are a technomancer.”
“I am.”
The doctor nodded. “I’m a lion shifter, and Dracx over there is a Geomorph.”
Wow. She had to keep herself from staring. Geomorphs, demons originally created using elements from both the human and demon realms, could morph into any type of naturally occurring metal, mineral, or stone. They were rare, most not even of pure blood anymore. Over the millennia, they’d bred with humans and either weakened or lost their abilities. They even claimed their souls were now human. Cyan had no idea if that was true or not. But then she didn’t really care.
“What’s Project 6hell?”
Dr. Dakarai and Dracx exchanged uneasy glances, but Stryke merely eyed her as if deciding what to say.
“It’s our newest undertaking,” he said. And didn’t that just clarify everything? “It’s pronounced shell but it’s spelled with the number six instead of an S. Makes sense if you know what it is.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Parker?”
“Getting coffee.”
He nodded. “Parker McDavid is the team’s weapons and designs expert.” The comms on his wrist beeped, and he gave it a quick glance. “I have to go.” Pausing, he cast Cyan a lingering look, and she swore one corner of his mouth tipped up in an evil smirk for just a fraction of a second. “Cyan will be team leader.”
She wasn’t sure why the announcement earned the malevolent amusement pouring off Stryke in waves, but whatever. He was a weirdo.
“I hope to see a lot of progress next time we meet,” he said, and with that, he took off.
As soon as the door closed, Dracx gave Cyan a look of pure sympathy. “Better you than me.”
“Or me,” Dr. Dakarai muttered.
Confused, she dragged her gaze away from the framed photos and bios of famous scientists on the walls. Someone had drawn a goatee and devil horns on the picture of Stryke.
“What’s so bad about being team leader?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Dracx said. “As long as you don’t mind daily meetings with the boss. Starting this Friday.”
She blinked. “ Daily ? That’s ridiculous. Weekly should suffice, if not monthly.”
Dracx gave her an exactly gesture with his long, spindly fingers. “Now you see the problem. No one wants to give him daily updates.”
“He’s usually cool with techmails or comms meetings, though,” Dr. Dakarai said. “But if he’s really invested—or irritated—he’ll make you meet him in his office.”
“And, dude,” Dracx said, “he’s invested in this. New weapon for DART? Get ready to spend a lot of time with him.”
Cyan will be team leader .
Said with an evil smirk. And now she knew why.
The bastard .